No Rest for the Wicked
by Unwelcome Storm Warning
Summary: Dystopic Pokemon. A reluctant Dark-type trainer in a harsh world, trying to survive and maybe do something worthwhile.


The Underground is a pretty crap place to live. I should know, I grew up down here. Miles and miles of tunnels running all under the region--hell, under the other regions too, or so I hear--made of old mine shafts, abandoned Onyx trails, and the occasional underground cavern. It's full of clusters of civilization, if you can call it that; shantytowns full of all the people too poor to live up in a city, safe behind walls and trained police with their guard pokemon. Down here it's Might Makes Right, when there's a problem, and Might Makes Liked every time else.

This would be one of those first times.

I'm standing in one of the natural caverns right now, place bursting to the seams with its residents all circled around me and my opponent. A few questions and a few bribes told me that the lady in front of me made this neighborhood into her own private playground after she bested the water guards and the few other trainers in the area. She's tarted herself up in mismatched makeup and enough cheap jewelry to make me think she demanded it as 'tribute.' Even got a little tiara made of wire and bottle caps. As self-appointed 'princess' here, she demanded to beat out the trainer wandering through. Suits me just fine, I was going to fight her anyway. A sloppy kiss to her poke ball and she hurls it my way.

A Breloom pops out of the lipstick-smeared capsule, which explains how she got the water guards. There's not many trainers down here who can command water types, so the ones that do get guard duty against the roaming Geodudes and occasional Onyx. A plant trainer would take them easy. Also explains why she looks high as a kite; she's probably had the living mushroom since it was a Shroomish, and given the way it's shaking spores from its body she's been breathing in its toxins for a long time. Almost makes me feel sorry for her. I barely tap my first poke ball and it pops open, Ruin materializing in the makeshift arena and letting out a howl. All the spectators press back against the rock walls and I think I hear a child start crying somewhere behind me. It's a reaction I've had to get used to, and I can kinda relate. The skull and bone marked Houndoom are feared and reviled as one of the worst dark pokemon to encounter, much less have the audacity to train. The princess is too far gone to care, though. She shrieks at her Breloom to attack--Ruin or me, I don't think it matters.

Ruin is faster. A belch of toxic fire smothers the Breloom and very nearly lights up some of the spectators. The walking mushroom squeals as its spongy flesh bubbles and blackens until it collapses into a quivering lump of dead protein. The princess wails at the loss but doesn't waste much time throwing the whole bandolier of poke balls she has left into the ring. I'd say that was rude, but it's not like I was expecting her to fight fair. I'm certainly not. A tap at my waist and my Sableye pops out, its luminous eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. Out of the princess's poke balls emerge some standard fare; another Shroomish, a Roselia, and some sort of froglike thing. It takes me a moment to identify it as a Lombre. Unlike her other little monsters this one looks pretty unhealthy, its lily pad sombrero is yellowing at the edges and the frog's thin frame sways slightly as it takes up position behind the main fighters.

I start barking commands at the Sableye. No use commanding Ruin, he takes my orders more as suggestions. My other pokemon are better behaved, and unlike Ruin, don't immediately try to kill their opponents. And speak of the devil, Ruin pounces on the Roselia and starts chewing and snapping at its leaves. It gives a warbling cry and turns to face the Lombre, and suddenly I know why it looks so frail. The Roselia spits out a tendril that snakes towards the froglike pokemon and, with a small spurt of chlorophyll-filled blood, burrows into the Lombre's arm. The Lombre whimpers but doesn't resist as the Roselia leeches away its life. The crazy bitch has been keeping the Lombre as a living battery for her plants, and the realization makes me erase any pity I had left for her. I do pity the Lombre, but that doesn't stop me from ordering Sableye to switch targets and claw it to death. The princess's other pokemon will drain it dry and prolong this battle, making it necessary to cut off their support. I tell myself it's a mercy killing, anyway.

The Shroomish waddles towards me, skin pulsing and releasing clouds of spores with every step. I tap my belt's third capsule and a Sneasel clatters to the dirt-packed floor, flexing its thin paws and unsheathing two pairs of wicked claws. I point at the Shroomish and it darts over, frosty claws swiping through pulpy flesh. Chunks of fungus litter the ground next to torn petals and a spreading puddle of water and blood from the Lombre. As soon as I'm sure none of the unfortunate pokemon are still moving I tap my belt again and recall my Sableye and Sneasel. Ruin stays out, prowling in a circle and hopeful for more challengers.

The princess collapses on the floor, sobbing. I don't pity her. She's been making life even more hellish than usual for this section of the Underground, so maybe it's justice that now she'll be at their mercy. They'll probably drive her out, and without her pokemon she'll be at the mercy of the wild pokemon. They don't have much. That's why people live in the Underground in the first place, where there's only a couple types of wild pokemon to hunt you. That's why if you can scrape yourself enough money to move above ground you get a cramped apartment in a cluttered city, safe behind walls and suppression fields. That's why there aren't many cities or people. Pokemon are dangerous, the trainers who control them are dangerous, and trainers who use dark pokemon must be the worst of all. I'm pretty sure that last part is complete bullshit, but looking around the silent circle of sallow-skinned destitutes I think what I believe doesn't matter much with the end result. Nobody's saying anything, just shuffling their feet and staring at me, at my Houndoom, at the broken girl on the floor. They think they've traded one tyrant for another.

I don't even bother to search the fallen princess for my prize money. I just turn around and start walking. Ruin growls and follows me, and the ring of people parts to let us by. It's about a mile to the nearest exit to the surface, and after that I hear Team Magma's been sighted snooping around nearby.

No rest for the wicked.


End file.
